I had several. Still have a nice — or gnarly — scar on my left arm from one Italian beastie. Love the idea of a project bike. I’ve even toyed with the concept of a project car, but after exposure to much of the local car culture I realize I’m ill-equipped to follow through on the dream machine.
As far as regrets go? I regret that I only have one existing picture from the motorcycle collection. All I’ve got, a single image, all those years, just an image. Just one. The current title is reductive because it suited how I felt about it, a picture of a picture.
That was one of the “cafe racers” I built, with a number of interesting add-ons, still, as far as the rules set forth, it followed the rules. It was a low, mean, loud hot-rod. It was fun, too. At one point in its ill-begotten life, it was a stunning image, as well. Small frame, big motor squeezed in, loud pipes, and oddly enough, a prescient name: the White Whale. I do believe it was my first of “generic” objects that are looking for branding. Besides, white was simple.
Dozens of years later, I heard about the White Whale, it was some one else’s hot rod, now. Lost in the murky waters of time.
Yes, Cafe Racers were fun, but I have to figure it’s a young person’s sport, now.
All I have left over are some images, and not many, at that.